<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Belly of the Beast by softieghost</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25657621">Belly of the Beast</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/softieghost/pseuds/softieghost'>softieghost</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Familial Relationships, Galra Culture, Galra Keith (Voltron), Getting to Know Each Other, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Learning to Work Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, at least through s6, cuz its keith, keith won't shut up about shiro, krolia's backstory, lots of gratuitous descriptions of space whale scenery, my "what happened between keith and krolia on the space whale" fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:08:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,377</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25657621</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/softieghost/pseuds/softieghost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Keith and Krolia crash land on the space whale in the quantum abyss, they find they have a lot to talk about. But Keith won't open up and Krolia is too patient to push, so what will it take for them to heal their relationship? </p><p>---</p><p>Chapter Two: Keith and Krolia go looking for supplies and make a potential friend along the way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith &amp; Krolia (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Adjustment Period</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Keith dunked his head into a large pool of water that sat near their campsite, cutting out all sound from the landscape. The cold water ran over his face and into his hair, stinging the cuts and bruises that littered his skin. This probably wasn’t hygienic. He did it anyway, holding his breath until his lungs screamed at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cranky and breathing in the water droplets that rained down his face, he fell back onto his butt, disturbing the dry dust of the ground, sending a cloud of green up into the air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A person sat down next to him, silent as the surroundings. He stole a glance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia was a strange figure, tall and muscular but lean. Tired-looking in the face and in the way she moved, like she was nursing some pain somewhere. Her hair was such a garish two-tone Keith almost couldn’t believe it was natural. He certainly thanked what gods there might be that he had inherited his Pop’s jet-black tone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stayed quiet, just sitting next to him, unmoving. Her gaze was forward, slightly up, and proud, though she ignored how he examined her face. How familiar the slope of her nose was, her pointed chin, even the arch of her eyebrows. He couldn’t doubt Krolia was his mother when they looked like twins, the only difference being age and coloring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On tenterhooks, he held his breath, not wanting to disturb the stillness of the evening. His pulse spiked and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled with anticipation, something inside him perceiving his mother as a threat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia moved a fraction of an inch and Keith averted his eyes, instead looking around at the new landscape they were going to inhabit.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sky was a dull orange, like something burnt and ominous, or the first light of a sunrise. Stars and planets showed through the haze, along with swirls of other galaxies and the mysteries of a quantum abyss. The sky looked like a tie-dye painting, or when oil and water mixed, flowing and snaking along like a living thing. The ground was green and purple, blue in some spots, the plants growing out of the whale’s back all different shades of cool and dark. Flowers bloomed anywhere water had pooled, pinks and yellows giving light to the otherwise dark ground. Some trees and shrubs grew, too, and Keith wondered how they got there, how a living creature could support other living creatures. He pondered about the tortoise that carried the world in old myths, and how sloths moved so slow that algae grew in their fur. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sat in the dirt, he assessed himself. He was sticky and he ached in places he didn’t know he could ache before, like his fingers from holding his mother’s hands so tight. His teeth ached from clenching his jaw so hard. His eyes burned. He wanted to sleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stifled a yawn, putting the back of his hand to his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll make a fire,” Krolia said without turning to him. She stood and moved to the rock cave they had selected as shelter, presumably to gather supplies. Keith watched her go, openly staring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had nothing with them except their suits. No food, no camping gear, no nothing. Keith was grateful their suits could recycle any moisture they found into water, but that wasn’t going to keep them alive if they had to stay here for more than a few weeks. He recalled his survival courses from the Garrison, but even that hadn’t prepared him fully for this situation. He hoped Krolia would know something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sat as she moved. With the energy of a person who hadn’t just crash-landed on a space whale she cut down branches, arranged them and used her blade and a flint rock to create sparks, quickly sending the kindling ablaze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith paused, not wanting to get near her. She stared pensively into the fire, holding her large hands up to the flames, her claws glinting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The flames reflected in her eyes, giving her an almost frightening look. He was well aware of the similarities to cats (and bats, and lizards) that Galra had, but with the glowing eyes, she looked like she might pounce. Keith had enough experience with people that wanted to kill him that he took a half-step back, his blood running hot again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sit, Keith. Get some rest.” Her voice was low like his, a bit rough. Yet another thing he had gotten from her. It was a wonder he hadn’t been born a girl, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you-,” he started but she cut him off with a hand wave. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll keep watch. Go to sleep.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia stood and unclasped something in front of her, fiddling with how her suit was connected. She took off the top part of the uniform, revealing a tank top underneath what Keith didn’t realize was a jacket. She stood in a sleeveless shirt with a high collar up to her chin like a turtleneck and her uniform shorts and boots, offering him the jacket. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you need another layer. Or a pillow.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their words hung in the air, both silent. Keith could hear nothing but the babbling of some creek nearby. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shoved the jacket into his hands. “Take it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His fingers curled into the thick, silky fabric. It felt something like neoprene, sturdy but flexible. He stood for a moment, slightly stunned by her forcefulness, and watched her go to the top of the cave and perch on it, keeping guard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cave was more like a small outcropping of rocks, a convenient pile on the side of a hill, so she was able to sit on the top without trouble, aside from smoke from the fire. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alone, he lay down carefully, tenderly, and tried to focus on the peace of the fire crackling before him. His thoughts were murky and swirled like the sky above the whale. He wanted to shut them out and fall asleep, but he couldn’t, not when </span>
  <em>
    <span>all of this </span>
  </em>
  <span>was happening all at once. He worried for his team, his planet, the plan, the everything. And now he had his mother with him. It felt so strange, so foreign. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Exhaustion ran deep through him, but he was sure neither of them would get much sleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the morning, Keith woke bleary-eyed. He sat up and rubbed his face, distinctly becoming aware of how much he needed water, food, and a shower, preferably all at the same time. His mouth felt glued together from dehydration. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had no food and no water, but he could at least take a bath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith jogged over to the pool he had dunked his face in last night and pulled off his flight suit and shorts, quickly sinking into the pond. The water was purple-tinted, like it was reflecting the lavender and plum-shaded grasses. He wondered if it had plants growing at the bottom that gave off the color even though he couldn’t see any.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He submerged himself a few times, enjoying how cool he felt in the pond. The sensation was soothing on his skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tentatively, he drank a small gulp of it, hoping he wouldn’t feel so damn thirsty, but the water tasted like old fish, making him cough and splutter. He would have to rescue the liquid recycler from his flight suit and hope he could create drinkable water with it. It was small and for emergencies only, it’s output about a cup of water at a time. But it was better than nothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked around himself, submerged up to his eyeballs, hair floating around him in the purple lake. For the first time since he had met Krolia, he felt like he could breathe. She wasn’t there to hover over him, to talk to him about anything. He took powerful breaths through his nose and floated, consciously relaxing himself in the water from head to toe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Being around Krolia frightened him. She was everything he had ever wanted, and everything he had ever hated as a child. The person who had walked away, the person whom he needed, the person who was the first to demonstrate he wasn’t worth anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t matter that she had a good excuse. She left.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith went underwater one more time, closing his eyes to the world and floating, taking pressure off his joints. The atmosphere out of the water was similar but not the same as Earth. He could live in it, but that didn’t mean it was comfortable. Just lucky. Under the surface he floated, hoping nothing in the universe would disturb his relaxation - his sleep had been fitful, so floating for a moment was nice. He felt the pounding in his head dissipate until he needed to breathe again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A crunch of grass and twigs made him jolt, splashing in the water, suddenly aware he was very naked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia smiled, standing on the shore of the pond, her sharp teeth glinting in the sun. She looked so feral, so dangerous, so wicked, even though her tone and body language was carefully soft and unassuming. Keith got the notion that she could kill anything that crossed her path and do it with one hand behind her back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have food, Keith.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked around, wondering where it might be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia pointed to a large pile of crab legs near the cave. They were deep red and each as long as Keith’s own legs, indicating the enormous size of the animal itself. Krolia didn’t seem to have a scratch on her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She spoke to him but averted her eyes. “Can you build the fire this time?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith swallowed. He wanted to tell her to do it herself. All the relaxation he had mustered in the hour or so previous was long gone, replaced by annoyance and embarrassment. He was pretty sure she had seen him naked, hence the way she avoided his gaze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hunger won out though, stomach rumbling hard enough to be painful, and so he waited for her to turn her back and climbed out of the pond, dressed himself, and watched as the liquid recycler did it’s job, giving him a canister of potable water. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He washed his mouth out with half of it and drank the other half, barely satisfied. At the very least he knew it worked, and that was something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He trudged his way to the cave and sat near the burn pile, blade in his hand and flint in the other, picturing what his mother had done the night previous and attempted to recreate it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith stuck his tongue out, concentrating. His stomach clenched. He was hungry enough to have begun feeling nauseous (though the smell of raw alien crab insect meat didn’t help) and so he gripped the knife hard enough to go white-knuckled and smacked the rock again. Nothing happened, save a few knicks in the stone from the power of his strikes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like this,” Krolia said, her voice calm and patient, her eyes avoiding his as she squatted down a foot away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia took his hands in hers, her touch light but confident, and adjusted the angle. She pushed one hand forward and held the other steady, creating sparks to rain down on the kindling, which immediately began to smoke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now you do it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith took a breath and made his attempt, holding his hands exactly as she had shown him. To his surprise, a spark came from between the knife and flint, joining the smoldering leaves beneath him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” he grumbled, annoyed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia smiled and walked back to her crab legs, cracking them open with sickening, squelching sounds. She broke down the legs with a swift confidence, peeling out sections of meat with her hands, her knife, and her claws. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia was a mystery to him. To come back into his life with these skills, with a gentle tone, with hands soft enough that his skin still tingled where she had touched him made him so angry and confused he wanted to cry. Who was this woman? Why was she like this? Where had she been all his life when he needed her? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She deftly speared the meat on sticks, making some kind of space kabob, and handed Keith a few. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cook until it turns black. Then eat.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t realize his throat was tightening with tears until the heat of the fire dried his eyes. He tried to focus on the meat. It wasn’t particularly appetizing, giving off a smell that was a cross between fish and beef. He held his tongue, grateful for the food but hoping it didn’t turn his stomach the way food goo did back in the old days. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia devoured her portion, her fangs and claws leaving indents on the sticks they used as skewers. Once again, Keith found himself wondering, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“what if I had turned out like that?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia either did not notice or pretended not to notice his constant stares, for which he was grateful. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, constantly surprised. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I have a mother. I have a mother again.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They ate in silence, his eyes on her, her eyes on the food. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a week, Keith started to break down  in earnest. Anxiety was overwhelming him, worried about his friends, his planet, the universe...he didn’t know how long they would be stuck on the whale and there was no end in sight. The quantum abyss was just that - a massive, supermassive even, portal to new worlds and they were trapped. Krolia didn’t use that word, but Keith knew they were trapped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t slept well in the days they had been there, tossing a turning on the cold hard ground, the green dirt sticking to everything. He hadn’t been clean since the last time he was in civilization. He hadn’t had a conversation with anyone since they had left the Paladins behind - both and he and Krolia were short on words. He never started a conversation, and she finished them quickly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lay on the ground inside the cave, staring up at the ceiling, trying to think of ways to fix his broken communicators when Krolia appeared out of nowhere, dropping from her perch atop the rocks to the soil with a thud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Keith. Let’s spar.” Her tone was as even as ever, calm, patient, as if this whale stuff was perfectly normal. Annoyance rippled through Keith, but he shoved it deep down and away, trying to remain patient. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” He asked, carefully gauging his tone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia looked at him for a beat before responding. “Because we are fighters. I am sure you have energy to burn. Come on.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith contemplated his options. He could continue to lay on the ground of the cave and worry, he could go for another swim in the purple pond, he could try and build a second steam boiler - the first already producing sufficient fresh water for them both. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at his mother’s back, feeling like he was playing a game he didn’t know the rules to, and scrambled after her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They ended up in a field not too far away, the yellow sun beating down on their backs, the orange sky swelling and moving above.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, Keith, what forms of combat are you sufficient in?” She spoke a bit like Kolivan - formal, stilted, but the strangest part to him was that she did not need to use a universal translator. She knew English, probably the only alien in the entire universe to do so. It made sense that she would learn it, but he was still caught off guard when her lips matched the words Keith was hearing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her accent was thick, though. The words ran together and broke in weird spots, making her sound a little like a rumbling engine. Her voice was low and scratchy enough that sometimes he had to ask her to repeat what she was saying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She said his name funny, too, more like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kith </span>
  </em>
  <span>than Keith. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Naowyeh, Kith, whadyeh form sof combet ayer you suffi-siet in?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith blinked, processing the question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, well, hand-to-hand? And using my blade and bayard?” he answered, a little unsure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, but what types?” she asked, looking at him intently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh…,” he floundered. The Garrison taught them one way to fight - don’t if you don’t have to. Use a gun instead. He had learned everything else from Shiro but he hadn’t given it a name. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia put her hands on her hips, her muscles flexing in her arms and shoulders. “Traditional Galra, traditional Marmoran, Universal type…?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Garrison?” he tried, feeling slightly ashamed. She had seen him fight, too, so this question made him feel odd. Unless she thought he fought poorly and was trying to navigate the conversation in a sensitive manner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia nodded and Keith hoped they were on the same page. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I teach you traditional Marmoran. Then, if we have time, my speciality, an ancient type taken from the deathblacks.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Deathblack…?” he asked, unsure if he had heard correctly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia nodded and started walking away, leaving Keith to follow her. “It is the approximate English translation. In Galran we say something close to ‘the blackness following death’ or ‘dying but not reaching the afterlife’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Keith said, lamely. He often felt as if he couldn’t keep a conversation going with Krolia, and so he didn’t try. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia stopped in the middle of the field, bending to pick up to long branches - the shorter of which she tossed to Keith. He caught it easily and Krolia smiled, nodding. This he could do, he knew it. He was confident and strong when it came to fighting, it was the thing he was second-best at, after flying. He would impress his mother and walk away the victor. Something about the bitterness he clung to encouraged him to beat her, as if to say, “I am strong without you”. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia didn’t move, but she watched Keith with intensity, her eyes tracking him. Keith made the first approach, stepping towards her with careful, calculated caution. When they were within range, he assessed her stance and found an opening - her left shoulder. It was unguarded and a weak point. With one strike he could shock her, then disarm her, and win in a few seconds flat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lunged, and - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ground was hard underneath him. He tried to suck in breath but his lungs were too stunned to do anything but struggle. His ankles throbbed with the force of the sweep Krolia had done, fully knocking him down and out. She approached swiftly but silently and offered him her hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kith</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith looked away and got himself to his feet, ignoring her outstretched hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Again.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia nodded and took her stance. Once again, Keith approached. But this time was faster, giving her less time to formulate a plan. He took three running steps and leapt, only to find himself face down on the ground, Krolia’s stick having rapped him across the back and knocking him down. With a growl he hauled himself up, spitting a little blood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Again!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia backed off but took her stance, her eyes wary. Keith ran at her, angry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anger, for Keith, was natural. Even after all this time it boiled in him. Maybe being with his mother made it worse, made him remember what it was like to a child in a foster home for the first time, to be laughed at by teachers, to have questions about why his body was different that no doctor could answer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ran at her, his anger taking flight within him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia dropped her stick and dodged him, not letting him land a hit. In a deft move, so fast Keith could hardly believe it, she kicked up her dropped weapon, caught it, and stabbed the end towards him, nearly spearing him in the throat. The wood didn’t touch him though, but it could have. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith panted, his mouth tasting coppery. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Again!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia withdrew, standing up straight and holding her stick at her side, casual. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kith, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I must teach you first.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith wanted to scream. He could do it on his own if she would give him the chance to show it, but instead she was just taunting him with her casual stance. He jerked himself forward, moving as he raised his stick to whack her, lunging on instinct, his form no doubt sloppy. She sidestepped him again and grabbed his weapon, wrenching it out of his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kith</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Keith!” She got his name right on the second try and it pissed him off. If she could say it right sometimes, why not say it right all the time? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What!?” he hollered back. He was glad they were alone so he didn’t have to watch his tone or his volume. The rage inside him sloshed like a wave, making his skin prick with heat. He was going to need another soak in the pond. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia’s demeanor was relaxed. She didn’t rise to meet his emotion at all. Even Kolivan would have yelled back at this point, telling him he was being insubordinate, giving him some kind of emotional feedback, but Krolia just stood there like a damn statue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You will keep losing if I don’t show you how. Come, now, we have plenty of time to learn.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m a good fighter!” he yelled again, throwing his hands out. He bent and picked up his weapon, ready to go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia continued to stand and watch. “I know you’re a good fighter. You could beat ninety-nine percent of the known universe. But we are fighting with two different styles, and that’s why I am winning. Let me teach you. I am surprised Kolivan has not done so, yet.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith frowned, shaking his head. “Kolivan just let me do whatever I wanted when it came to fighting.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia nodded, smiling. “That is the problem, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kith.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith’s eye twitched at the pronunciation and he opened his mouth to yell, but she cut him off, her hands rising to assert dominance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marmoran fighting is about subversion. Sort of how we infiltrate the Empire and take it down from within. We use our opponents weaknesses to our advantage. There is no benefit to being the strongest or the tallest, but instead the fastest, the most cunning. That is why I beat Kolivan in every fight we have,” she said, pride leaking into her voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I gave you an opening,” she continued. “And you took it. But by doing that, I knew where you were going to move before you did. So I won.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, I get it,” Keith grumbled. “Let’s go again. I get it now,” he repeated, eager to fight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia nodded and took her stance, her calm expression pushing all of Keith’s buttons.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith took his stance and assessed Krolia - saw her openings. She left her shoulder open just like last time, but that meant she would go for the foot sweep. His ankles were throbbing and he wasn’t about to let that happen again - to his ankles or to his pride. He sucked in a cool breath and lunged, this time at her legs, aiming to both stop her sweep and throw her off balance. He reached and - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again, he fell, struck on the back. This time he lay there for a moment, defeated and hurt, his back searing. He let out a groan, staying still and catching his breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia came and sat by him. “Your pattern of thinking was okay - I leave my arm open so that means I will attack your feet. Of course, I know what you are thinking, so I subvert you twice in one go.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith pressed his face into the ground, breathing in the grass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kith</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You will figure it out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stood and helped him up. Keith stood there, furious at himself for losing, and threw the stick he was holding so hard it snapped against a far away tree. The crack echoed in the air, reverberating across the myriad pools and lakes that dotted the whales back. Krolia made a soft gasp, startled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith just stared into the sun. “How long are we gonna be on this damn whale?!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His words echoed the same way the stick had, sharp and lonely in the silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia took measured steps, approaching Keith with some kind of caution. She reached out to touch him but before their skin could meet, she withdrew, instead holding her arms together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s your problem?” he continued, feeling his fists ball up on their own. “You act all - all calm and cool and shit like being here on this rock isn’t a problem. And you can’t fucking say my name right! And - Goddamnit, I just - why -,” he fizzled out, his anger making it impossible to speak. His brain was a jungle, all twisted with thorns and razor’s edge grass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wanted to run back to his little pond. The cool water was the only thing he wanted touching his skin, not the clingy Marmoran suit, not her hands, not anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could feel the strings inside him fraying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia stayed impassive, her eyes not rising to meet him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t we talk, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kith</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s KEITH! K-E-I-T-H,” he shouted, frustration continuing to flow out of him like a raging river. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes - oh, was she crying? The bad, horrible part of him got some satisfaction out of that. How many times had he shed tears over her? Now it was her turn.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She cleared her throat, her face impassive. “Talk to me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kith</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just tell me when you think we’re going to get off this whale. You know more about it than I do, so tell me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia looked down, once again brushing imaginary lint off her outfit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The quantum abyss is massive. Larger than your galaxy. It may be...some time.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How much time!” he asked, more statement than question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia thought about it for a moment. “Between...one and three Earth years.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith exploded. Anger ripped through him not like a wave but a tsunami. He felt his body go tense with shock and rage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?! How could you keep something like that from me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He started walking away, getting halfway to the cave before Krolia caught up with him, standing in his path and stopping him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kith</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I am sorry. I didn’t want to scare you. But the whale will take us to the edge, or as close as we can get, and we can escape from there and call Voltron or the Blades. Someone will hear us.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if they don’t?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She still didn’t look up, avoiding his gaze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone will hear us, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kith</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I promise. I am frightened, too, but someone will hear us when we send a signal.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t guarantee that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but, I will do everything I can. I am sending signals as we speak. It’s very possible someone will be waiting for us as soon as we escape.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her tone was hopeful but put-on. Keith recognized it as the same tone his Pop used whenever he had to tell Keith he was going to fight a large fire - everything will be fine, let Pop handle it, don’t worry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t lie to me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am not lying.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t believe you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I will prove it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They don’t fight for a while - verbally or with sticks. Krolia only spoke to tell him when there is food or when there is water. Keith didn’t open his mouth except to eat. At some point, he realized he hasn’t said anything for three days. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t ask but she also didn’t need to. Keith knew he wore everything on his face. He knew it was his weakness, but he also knew he couldn’t change himself. He was who he was, Red Paladin (no matter what), Keith Kogane, Orphan, Angry, Fighter, Reckless, Pigheaded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She goaded him into sparring after a few days, offering him the chance to use real blades as a treat. Such a Galran way of thinking, he thought. Win a stick fight, advance to a knife fight. It worked. He landed a hit and he was so stunned by his victory Krolia took all the openings she was given and held not just the stick to his neck but her blade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> let your guard down,</span>
  <em>
    <span> Kith</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged away from it. He had no doubt in the world she would never hurt him intentionally, at least physically. But he was still embarrassed, knowing she had a point. But, deep inside himself, he smiled, knowing he landed a hit. He still had his pride. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took her stance. Emboldened, he lunged for her, spinning his weapon so as to create a diversion. She punched through it, getting the end of her stick to his throat once again. A smile danced in her eyes, her own pride shining through. She set her stick down and beckoned for him to come at her with just his hands and he did, chucking his stick and raising a fist to hit her. He didn’t go for damage, but he wanted to win again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wanted to win so badly he could taste it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, she caught his fist and twisted his arms behind his back, holding him still. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kith</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But you’re getting better.” She released him and pushed him away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the rest of the fight the ghost of her touch lingered on his skin, ever present and tingling like he’d gone numb. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Afterwards, when she beat him about ten more times but he landed a second hit, they went to Keith’s pond. She closed her eyes while he striped and opened them once he slipped in, making enough noise to signal that he was hidden in the water.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith floated, careful to keep everything below his belly button under the surface of the water while Krolia acted as lifeguard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was nervous about speaking to her - his mouth had been closed for three days, but he was starting to get words bubbling in the back of his throat. He was reminded of how he had always acted to his fosters - give them the silent treatment, see if they would care. But Krolia was so different than those people used to be - she listened to all of the other ways he spoke - his body language, his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened his mouth and breathed in at first. The air tasted bad, smelled bad, but it’s air, and it refreshed him somewhat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took him three tries to form his sentence. He practiced it in his head. At the end of the day he was shy and he knew it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um,” he started. Krolia’s ears twitched like a cat’s. She stared, wide eyed while Keith looked upwards at the sky, only seeing her through his peripheral vision. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you ever look at me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a harsh question, but he’s bothered by it - how she avoids his gaze but stares when he’s not looking. It makes him feel watched. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia stretched her arms out above her head, thinking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is Galra way.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith lifted his head from the water. “You have to explain,” he said, trying to be clear through his annoyance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is an instinctual thing. To submit to someone you know is angry with you. An apology.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The water splashed as he changed position, no longer floating on his back but pointing his feet downwards so he could get a better look at Krolia. Her answer made him feel funny in a way he can’t describe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well...stop. It’s fine.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia continued to stretch but glanced at him slightly. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kith</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you have every right to hate me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Part of me does,” he admitted. It felt like spitting something inedible out - it had lingered in his mouth for so long it’s all relief to be free of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked down at the ground, unmoving. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But we have to live together so we should probably work it out, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia looked up, her eyes catching Keith’s. He could tell there was something hopeful in her face. He felt guilty and angry for being guilty. She was the one who left, so why should he feel anything for her except righteous anger? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“<em>Kith</em>-,” she started, but he cut her off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you, pronounce my name right. I know you have an accent but it’s not hard.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her face colors ever so slightly. It’s hard to tell through her fur, but he can see her face turning more pink than purple.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Keith,” she said, no trace of an accent. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kith</span>
  </em>
  <span> is a word for a parent to call a child. Meaning something like, ‘the one I fight for’. Your father and I agreed on your name so it could be close to something I might say. So you could...maybe, have something of me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith’s face turned red. “Oh.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t call you that again. I am sorry, Keith.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” he says, but he didn’t feel thankful. He felt broken somewhere deep inside. Like her words took a sledgehammer to the foundation he had cobbled together for himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Close your eyes so I can change. We should talk, I guess.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She put her hand over her eyes immediately, clearly agreeing. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Hunting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Keith and Krolia go looking for supplies and make a potential friend along the way.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A hand shook Keith awake, jolting him out of his dream world with a fright. He’d been back on Earth eating food in the old shack, and his father was there, talking to him. He couldn’t recall what the conversation was about, but he knew he had been comfortable and safe in that child-like way, the feeling of falling asleep in your parent’s back seat driving home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?” he grumbled, cracking his neck as he sat up and rubbed at his eyes while his brain slowly registered his other senses. The quiet sound of the environment, the hum of far off galaxies. The musty smell from the whale’s self-made atmosphere. A hunger pang. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia grimaced. “Don’t do that. And we are going to find animals to skin.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A long sigh rushed through him and he put his head between his knees. His unrest settled into his bones as he awoke in earnest and his head was throbbing. Being vertical, let alone conscious, was a cruel joke when he had slept on the ground for multiple days straight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia looked down at him, her face impassive. “Are you okay, Keith? Did snapping your neck kill you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith sat up, holding back what he really wanted to say. “I’m fine. Is there breakfast?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course there is food, same as always.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith nodded, grabbing a stick of crab meat and eating without tasting it, as if he was on autopilot. He kept his eyes closed and imagined what it would be like to be back in the Castle, sleeping on his perfect bed with his perfect sheets and his perfect air conditioning system, soundly, restfully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia’s voice cut through the fantasy. “Hurry up, Keith.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sat on top of the cave as he ate, sharpening her blade. He could hear the sound of steel on steel, the low grind echoing through the landscape. There were no organic sounds - no birds, like on Earth, no mammals big enough to eat or turn into supplies. The only other living things he had seen on the whale were the damned cosmic crabs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We cannot stay in our flight suits and armor forever. Your fragile skin will break out in, what’s the word, a rush. We will smell.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her accent highlighted the misuse of her word, her voice slightly muddled and tripping. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith quickly assessed himself - so far no (more than average) stink, no rash…but it had only been a few days. The fact that his suit might not last through daily wear for multiple years dawned on him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He put his head to his knees again, keeping his exhaustion to himself. One to three years. The previous night’s conversation (rather, fight) ran through him like his sighs and yawns did - totally without his control and shaking his whole body. He knew he should be embarrassed, but mostly he was resentful. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No Castle, no bed, no friends, no Shiro, just fucking crab meat and camp fires. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Plus, we can use leather to make beds or blankets. Or we can put a door on the cave.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Acceptance had never been one of Keith’s skills. Mostly, that fact had been a boon to him, he had been right about a lot of things. Shiro, for one, not being the reason for the Kerberos failure. Keith was still proud of that moment - he knew he was right and the Garrison could screw themselves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But on the other hand, he really wanted a bed. He could give his mother one thing, she was pragmatic and not one for bullshit, and a nicer sleeping area would surely do them both some good. At the very least some sleep would help him put his fake smile on and get through the days without more screaming matches. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Having a normal conversation, though?</span>
  <em>
    <span> That</span>
  </em>
  <span> would take some practice. But it felt awkward not to talk, even despite his resentment of the situation. The silence was painful, forcing him to focus on where he was and where he didn’t want to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, Krolia?” he asked, tentative, feeling a bit like he was walking towards a sleeping bear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Keith?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a question.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Okay? You may ask it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith stood, and hauled himself up, chin-up style, until he could hook a leg over the roof of the cave and sit next to her. He could have taken four steps to get to the top, but he liked to climb more than walk, so he did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um...how do you know how to make leather?” He asked the first question that came to mind, speaking more to fill the silence than anything else. He hated how strongly his curiosity wiggled inside him, and this seemed the best place to start, at least for now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugged. “It is normal training for a Galran soldier. We learn how to survive in any condition, on any planet. On Earth you’re never too far from civilization.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith thought about it for a moment before agreeing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia stood up and brushed imaginary lint from her leggings. She gestured for Keith to follow her, so he stood, stretching his tight muscles and bones, and trailed behind her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t ventured out of their campsite much. The farthest he went was when he needed privacy, or when they went to the field to spar in. But it seemed Krolia had done far more exploring than he had as she trekked through the terrain without hesitation, following what could have even been a trail. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked around himself, taking in the scenery. They were walking towards where the trees got denser and the grass got darker, going from lavender to bruise-dark purple. The bushes grew higher and wilder, their branches snaking upwards like vines. The trees had long limbs, tangled together. Earth trees might be big, but these were huge rambling things, twined together like braids. He couldn’t tell where one tree started and the other ended. The sky was almost completely hidden as they entered the forest proper. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>More and more wildlife crawled out of the forest, crossing their path or darting parallel to where they walked. Small bugs (or, the equivalent of bugs) and crab-like animals, things with eye stalks and jelly bodies, things with shells and upwards of six, ten, twenty legs. Things that ran away from them and things that stared, their numerous eyes upon Keith and his mother. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reminded himself he didn’t need to be nervous. Still, he followed Krolia closely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walked for some time down the meandering path. Keith kept quiet, not wanting to disturb the silence and scare away anything that might be useful as clothing. Despite staying attentive he couldn’t be sure how much time was passing. He didn’t have anything that told the time, nor was he sure a clock would even work in the quantum abyss. He wondered, idly, if his sense of time would be ruined once they got out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia stopped, suddenly, and drew her blade. Keith stumbled ever so slightly, caught off guard but drew his too, mirroring her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ahead of them was a clearing, not unlike the field they practiced in. The grass was a lighter color and the earth untouched by anything human or Galra. The yellow rays of the stars and sky danced along the grass, caught and twisted by the swirls of the abyss. In the field, a mammoth animal was hunting what looked like a scrappy dog or wolf. The creature was large - slightly smaller than an elephant, he guessed, not that he had ever seen an elephant up close, and covered in brown fur. It had large jaws and teeth and huge claws on its feet, ready to slice open the wolf with a single blow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wolf - black with electric blue stripes - fought back. It snarled and howled, making horrible sounds every time it was hit by the claws of the beast. They danced a little, each taking lunges and swipes at each other like a housecat fighting a wild animal it was too confident to ignore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wolf zipped and zapped from place to place. Keith stood with his mouth open as he watched it teleport, the smell of ozone and burning fur slowly wafting over to where he and Krolia hid. It let off flashes of light and reappeared with a pop, instantly, and without missing a beat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Incredible. You only hear about the Kyryzygyan wolves in textbooks…,” his mother muttered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He poked his head around her shoulder to get a better look. “What is it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned her head slightly so she could speak to him in a hushed tone. “They’re quite a rare species. They can teleport, as you can see, so they always run away from anyone that goes out looking for them. Not much is known about them aside for some basic facts. Some say they can time travel, but that’s only legend.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith raised his eyebrows, impressed. “Well...we are in a quantum abyss. We’ve seen each other’s memories…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia shrugged. “I do not know if we actually went back in time or if it was closer to an illusion. In any case, the wolf will take down the Graxid with no problem. We may not have to do any work.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s very small,” Keith objected. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia nodded. “So are you, but you can fight well. Take a look. Maybe you will learn something about Marmoran style fighting.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith glanced at her, not sure if she was making a joke or being her naturally blunt, deadpan self. Her face was neutral but then again, it was always neutral. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wolf ran around the field, teleporting away and then sprinting towards the beast - the Graxid. Keith couldn’t surmise any sort of pattern the wolf might be using until he saw its opponent stumble and fall. The wolf was quite literally confusing the beast and, likely, tiring it out. It fell with a massive crash, large enough to shake the twining trees and shrubbery that kept Keith and Krolia hidden. A leaf shook loose from the tree they stood under and landed in Krolia’s hair - Keith was tempted to pick it out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he kept watching the fight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wolf zapped out of existence for a moment and, when it did so, the Graxid relaxed completely and fell still, dead. The wolf zapped back into sight, this time covered in blood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith gasped. “What-,” he started, before Krolia cut him off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kyryzygyan wolves will teleport into their prey. Young ones have a hard time aiming, so that’s why it tired the poor thing out, so it wouldn’t move as much.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s disgusting,” Keith said, feeling his stomach bubble with the thought of something teleporting into his body. The idea made him so uncomfortable he had to hold back from throwing up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s terribly efficient. Look - other animals will come out and eat now. This way the wolves risk fewer of their members’ lives while still getting enough food for an entire pack.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she spoke other wolves started to emerge from the forest. Keith had to cover his mouth in awe. Some of them were larger than horses, some only slightly larger than chihuahuas. The variety was incredible. Some had white or brown fur, some had green, pink, red stripes decorating their fur. Keith spied one other wolf, much larger, that was also black and blue, presumably related to the little one. The pack was enormous and clearly growing; most of the wolves seemed to have pups trailing them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The wolves are mostly females. The males go off to join bachelor clans before they find life-long mates. It’s quite fascinating, actually. Some say they’re as smart as Galra, they just don’t have thumbs so they can’t make tools. I don’t know if I buy that one, though.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When do we go down and get what we need?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia squatted down, resting but watchful. “When the wolves leave. We don’t want to interrupt them.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if they eat everything?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then we find another beast.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they sat and watched the forest got darker, dense patches of cosmic dust blanketing the sky. Only the swirling of the oily galaxy lights shed any light on the wolf pack. The atmosphere made Keith want to sleep again, his eyes feeling heavy as they waited. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith cleared his throat, feeling his words bubble on his tongue. He was the one that had said they needed to talk, yet shame and pride kept his mouth glued shut, his teeth aching with the effort of not speaking when his mind was racing. He was used to the feeling - giving all of his foster placements the silent treatment had been what got him kicked out of most of them - but that didn’t make it pleasant. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia glanced at him. “You are very obvious when you’re thinking hard.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith frowned. “Sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned to look at him fully, her eyes soft but unreadable. “Is this about last night?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he lied, right through his teeth and to her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia leaned in and hugged him, her touch surprising and strange - gentle and familiar somehow, but equally strange, her arms long and strong in ways humans never were. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is fine. For me, anything I can get from you makes me happy. We can talk when you’re ready.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith looked away, completely unable to look at her. He had never been anyone’s reason for happiness. It was an acid that burned his stomach any time he thought about it, a pain he could never get over - being unwanted, forgotten, cast aside, it was his nature to be the lone wolf, even among Paladins. So to have Krolia freely admit her affection turned him inside out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia dropped the subject for which Keith was grateful. He wasn’t about to start anything, even the process of apologizing. He was frozen with his indecision while Krolia kept moving forward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked back at the clearing, the sounds of flesh ripping and bone crunching drifting through the trees, and did not look back over at Keith for a long while. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His ass ached from sitting on the ground, his back ached from sleeping. His head hurt from exhaustion and the adrenaline of hunting, of overthinking his actions and words, of being so ashamed of himself that he couldn’t confront the person who had started it all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sky shifted, shedding more light on the field. As the yellow rays hit the ground the last wolf pulled its snout out of the Graxid carcass and Krolia stood, stretching. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come, Keith.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The crept towards the body. Keith could smell the blood and gore - copper, sweetness, cloying morbidity - and as they krept closer the ground got soggy with it. Bits of flesh - muscle and intestines - were laying on the grass and inside the rib cage of the poor animal. Keith gagged, putting a hand to his nose so he didn’t have to smell the horrible thing. Krolia seemed unbothered by it but that wasn’t something Keith could mimic - the stench was overwhelmingly powerful. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without hesitating, Krolia began working. Her blade seemed standard-issue, bearing the Empire’s logo, but it was clearly made with certain tasks in mind and he was glad she was carrying it. She jumped into the thing’s rib cage, dissecting it from the inside out. A small pile of meat began accumulating near Keith’s feet as he watched her work, stunned and unmoving. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you need help?” He asked, cautiously calling into the animal, where his mother was crouched and carving. </span>
</p>
<p><span>“Just stand guard,</span> <span>Keith, in case the wolves come back.” </span></p>
<p>
  <span>Keith circled the Graxid, keeping eyes on the forest. He didn’t see much but from what his mother had said, it seemed the wolves would be highly unlikely to come out and join them. After a few laps the grass underneath his feet started to depress, making a small circle in the ground. He found it slightly charming, marching a protective circle around his mother while she worked. He was reminded of “helping” his Pop when he fixed up his old truck or their water heater or anything else around the house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, he kept that to himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused as Krolia’s knife came through the other side of the Graxid’s rib cage with a piercing, soft sound. She wrenched the knife downwards and with a second perpendicular cut, the ribs fell open, revealing Krolia, covered in gore, standing victorious. She wiped some blood from her face with the back of her hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith just stared in awe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If we can flip the damned thing over we can take the skin off it’s back,” she said, pausing. “Isn’t that an Earth phrase? Skin off my back…?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith fumbled his words. “Uh, yeah, why?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugged. “Just thinking to myself. Now come on, let’s flip this thing.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia stepped out of the carcass and dug her hands into the animal’s skin, ready to haul it upwards. Keith wasn’t so sure this was going to work but, so far, his mother had been right about everything else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because the ribs are broken and somewhat removed, we can flip this side over, then go to the other side and pull, make sense?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, no but if you show me I’ll follow along.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. Give a push!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith pushed, jamming his shoulder into the thing’s skin. The side of the rib cage lifted and started to swing, collapsing onto the other side as if like an open book being shut. With the spine to one side they were able to go to the other end and pull, flipping the carcas over and exposing the skin of the animal that hadn’t been eaten - protected from the wolves by nothing but it’s location between the guts and ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know how to skin an animal?” Krolia asked, breathing heavy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith put his hands on his knees. “No.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia nodded, still panting slightly. “I show you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia took his hand in hers and demonstrated the angle at which he should hold his knife so as to slide it between skin and muscle, severing the connecting tissue. Keith remembered just enough from his military anatomy lessons to know what exactly she was talking about when her English failed her. She was not quite fluent and words like “fascia” or “fibrous connective tissue” had not ended up in her vocabulary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Together, after some time, they ended up with a sheet of skin large enough to cover the entire opening of their cave. It was, by Keith’s estimation, about ten feet by eight feet -  certainly enough to fashion some new clothes out of so he didn’t wouldn’t have to worry about chafing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Together, they hauled the meat they harvested and the skin back to camp. By the time they arrived Keith was panting and sweaty, but so was Krolia. Despite his sticky skin, some satisfaction crawled into his belly, happy at the break in monotony and happy, surprisingly to him, that he had helped his mother. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they entered camp, Keith started their fire in no time, without being asked. Krolia assured him that it would “probably be fine” if they started the tanning process tomorrow as she packed the meat to keep in a dug out hollow near their cave. The meat would stay edible for a day or two, kept safe in the cool earth, wrapped in leaves. So the fire he started was small and just to keep them warm as they slept. As he sat, warming his hands and relaxing the tension from his shoulders, his mother hurried off to the pond. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith watched as she toed it, hesitant. He walked over, curious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia looked embarrassed. “I am filthy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith had never seen a Galra in the water before, and put two and two together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can be a lifeguard if you need.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia nodded before forcing him to turn around, presumably to strip herself. Keith blushed and covered his eyes even though he couldn’t see anything anyway. By now it was night, the sky dark save for the light of the stars and their fire so the only thing he would be able to make out would be vague shadows and silhouettes but he wasn’t going to risk it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he heard her splash in he turned and sat on the bank of the pond, feet in the cool water, and listened for the sounds of drowning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia splashed around, not very confident in the water. Her eyes, which shone like a cat, were wide and her head craned upwards as she did as close to treading water as she could imagine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, I can teach you how to swim if you want.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia’s voice was half strangled. “No, Keith, I can swim as fine as any Galra. It’s not really our nature.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith quieted his laugh, turning it into an awkward cough. “I like the water.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can tell.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith sat back on his hands, face skyward, and closed his eyes, relying on his other senses to tell what was going on. His head was still hurting the same way it had been when he awoke, as if his brain was simply too tired to process all of the information Keith kept taking in. As he lingered, still, on the edge of the pond and listened to his mother splash around, he realized that this exhaustion might be more from war than one bad night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been a long time since he had been ache-free, after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Words clung to the back of his throat like food too big to swallow, and he was tired enough to lose grip on his filter. He was reminded, slightly, of the nights back in the Garrison where he quietly, ashamedly, had cried on Shiro’s shoulder, memories of his past building up and breaking down inside him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The night sky danced above him. He lay on his back and looked upwards at it, tracing the light as it mixed like water and paint. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have...something to say.” His voice came out like a breeze, dreamy and slight. Half hopeful his words would get carried away from them, that she wouldn’t hear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything, Keith.” Her voice, on the other hand, was firm. Strong like her blade, reaching and carrying like her arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I saw why you left but...that doesn’t make it easier.” Such a simple way of putting such a heavy topic. He knew his words weren’t doing himself justice but he didn’t know how else to start. Even without his words taking up space in his mouth, his throat still felt heavy, like he was choking, shards of emotion scratching him like the thorns of a plant - pointed in reverse so it hurt more when they came out than when they went in. When had been the last time he cried? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia paused, the silence filling Keith’s ears like buzzing. “I know, Keith. I wish I had made a different choice.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He continued to stare at the twinkling stars. “Do you regret it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her answer was quick. “No. I can’t, not when staying would have killed you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wish to have seen your childhood. To have been there to do all the ‘mom’ things I missed.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He raised his head, seeing her silhouette still in the water. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like what?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her voice became softer, a little quieter. “Oh...I could have taught you Galran language. Held you at night. Took you on your first hunt. Taken pictures with you. Listened to your stories. All of those things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His tears were quiet, leaking out of him like a dripping pipe - one drop at a time, an oozing of pain. He felt like he was losing control of himself and his situation, his emotions, like he just needed one good night of sleep and everything would be okay. But he had been feeling that way for much longer than he wanted to accept - from far before he had landed on the whale with Krolia. Something inside him was crumbling, and it was crumbling fast. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” he said, voice strangled. “We have time now, I guess.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia splashed her way out, the sounds cutting through the quiet night. A breeze rustled the grass and the trees, making their branches rub together. Somewhere in the distance an insect-like beast clicked its pincers, making a sharp, metallic sound. His mother shook herself off and fought with her clothing just out of his sight line. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sat with his eyes closed anyway and took a long, deep breath. At some point he realized he had gotten used to the smell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two months since the day they landed and the tanning process had ended. Keith was about ready to tear off his skin when Krolia told him that they had something good to work with. He nearly cried. She had been right after all - his skin had bloomed red and patchy after wearing his Blade of Marmora suit for so long, even despite it’s self-cleaning properties. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia laid the leather out on the ground and examined it. Some of the spots were thicker than others, some softer, some darker. It was certainly a first try at tanning and on such a large piece of skin they were lucky to have gotten any usable pieces. The leather smelled a bit smokey, a bit like grass and vegetation, a bit like an animal. It was a strangely Earthy scent and made Keith a bit homesick when he put his face close to it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The day was warm and pleasant, with more of a breeze than had existed before. Keith wondered if there were seasons on the whale, thinking there couldn’t be if there was no main star to orbit around but, then again, stranger things had happened, so perhaps they were in for a change of scenery.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That wouldn’t be so bad, would it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith looked down at the leather, trying to decide where to start, shutting out all intrusive thoughts about the atmosphere. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you thinking so hard about, Keith?” Krolia called from her seat atop the cave where she was making a second water boiler to double their output. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you make clothes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia laughed her rumbly laugh. “Trace your existing clothes and cut those pieces out. Tie them together with string.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked down at himself, standing in the sun with only his - by now, ratty and thin - black shorts and decided what he needed most. That was going to be more pants. Pants couldn’t be too hard, right? He was a Paladin of Voltron and he could make pants. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith grabbed his flight suit and examined it. The Marmoran uniform was complicated with lots of decorative seams, pockets, and some embroidery, but he looked at the legs and broke them down into pieces, counting the panels. There were two pieces - no, four, plus a waist band. Well, he didn’t need a waist band, so just four pieces. Two for each leg. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He set his pants down, trying to figure out the crotch. How do they all sew together…? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith looked up at his mother. He needed to ask her help but she wasn’t looking at him. He had never called her “mom” before, but at this point calling her “Krolia” also felt wrong. He floundered and decided to say nothing at all, instead laying his suit back down on the leather and manipulating it so one piece lay completely flat - or so he tried. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fabric wouldn’t twist the way he needed it to, instead curling into itself and staying rumpled. He wished he could take it apart but he knew he would never be able to put it back together again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked back up at Krolia, words dancing on his tongue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um,” he said, trailing off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Keith?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know how to make pants.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia smiled, her eyes laughing. “I can show you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krolia did something magic to the leather, cutting it with her knife, making strips for ties, and before Keith knew it, he had shorts and a pair of pants. They fit, too, more or less, and they were soft like Earth fabric. He could finally set his Marmoran flight suit aside and let it rest, no longer frightened it might tear a hole somewhere and he wouldn’t be able to leave the whale until someone could come rescue him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she was done, she took her portion of leather and made shorts and a tank top for herself, quietly changing while Keith closed his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they were together again, Krolia laughed, “We’re in matching uniforms.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the remainder she cut herself a second set and Keith a third, allowing them each some freedom to change their clothes and stay clean. Keith looked down at himself, admiring the softness of the clothing, humbled by his mother’s actions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A feeling settled within him, telling him it was time to do something in return for her. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Technically in the show they rescue Kosmo from a crab thingy but I just cannot get past the idea that they wear the same clothes every day for two years.....just can't do it. Be happy this chapter isn't about soapmaking, lmao. </p>
<p>Kosmo shall return soon! He is a very good boy. </p>
<p>Let me know what you think so far - do you have any headcanons or ideas about their time on the whale? It's such a fun sandbox to play in. Comments and kudos keep me going!</p>
<p>Follow me on twitter @softiewrites</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everyone, thank you for reading. I've been meaning to write this fic for a while and now that I'm unemployed (lmao thanks covid) I certainly do have free time... I have a lot of thoughts, opinions, and headcanons for the two years Keith and Krolia spent together on the whale and am so excited to finally be able to get them down on paper. </p><p>Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos deeply appreciated!</p><p>&lt;3</p><p>Follow me on twitter at @softiewrites</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>